


Family Matters

by CultMother



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:36:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultMother/pseuds/CultMother
Summary: Your entire life you've lived in America with your mother and brother. When your mother dies and your brother gets her last wish, well.You're not going to let HIM fulfill it. It has to be you!





	Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Please do tell me how I did in the comments below regarding the first chapter!

You were not your mother's favourite child.

Pasty white skin. You didn't remind her of her homeland in the slightest, from your name to your skin. As her fingers brushed against your skin only briefly you knew that she regretted you. A mistake. But when she turned to your half-brother, Ajay, there was something in her eyes that you knew you would never receive. Your eyes gazed, almost accusingly, at Ajay, who had always been nothing more than a problem for this family. You'd done your best to be a perfect daughter and yet Ajay, Ajay! Where was Ajay. How about shooting up the nearest convenience store?

As her grip was released from yours, you held back a cry. In her last moments, as her son entered the room slightly late as usual with his hair askew, of course her attention would be drawn to him. Sure, Ajay had spent most of his time trying to make up for what he'd done. But death was not such a light thing. Even if mother forgave him you would never.

"Ajay, how I wish you could see it," She murmured, a smile crossing her lips. Ajay's hand flexed, tightening, squeezing your mother's. "The lush and wondrous lands of Kyrat. Nothing like America, my boy... it's realer. More beautiful." You were sure realer wasn't a word. You backed up slightly, your back pressing against the wall as you leaned into it. "God, how I wish things had happened differently..." She whispered, sinking her head into her pillow, her eyes closed.

You frowned. Perhaps she wished she hadn't have had you. Perhaps she regretted the fact she'd married an American man to support her only child. You were a ripe eighteen years old; conceived much later in your mother's life than your brother, who was twenty-six. Eight years older. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip. Why was Ajay so superior in her heart? Was it because he was born in Kyrat? Your father loved you. He hated Ajay. Maybe that was the real trade; because dad hated your brother, mom hated you.

Listening to her for the last few days of her life, your hatred for her grew. Kyrat, Kyrat, all about bloody fucking Kyrat. How about the people she was leaving behind? Why didn't she look you in the eye? Of course you were fucking angry. It was like she couldn't look anywhere other than at Ajay. Mom had the balls to keep the cancer from you and your brother and yet here she is, dying away, leaving a hole inside you didn't think you would be able to ever fill. It hurt. It hurt so badly to see her show favoritism in her very last moments.

When she died, at the funeral, you barely paid attention. You could just stare at the floor, desperately wounded by her passing but unable to fix yourself, fix the hole she left, forgive her. At the end, you just wanted to go home. Not hold some depressing fucking after party with the few friends that she had that did show up. But still, bank had already gone into the food and you found yourself snagging the cookies, eating one after the other. Glancing at your phone and not paying attention to any of her so-called friends. Your brother stepped towards you seemingly ready to start a conversation.

"Don't," He rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't hate mom, all right? I know... I know all she could do was talk about our homeland at the end."

"Yours," You snapped as you corrected him, that searing emptiness returning to your heart. So fucking what if you weren't part of the Kyrat club? So what if you'd never been there yet literally everyone else in your supposed family was? Sure, you had your dad's side of the family but it never really felt like it was enough. Ajay winced, before reaching out for the platter of cookies but you yanked it away. "Sorry, non-Kyrati's only."

"But you're-" He saw the expression on your face and sighed in frustration, done with trying to connect with you. "You can't be fucking racist to your own race," He muttered as he walked away.

"I can if I'm not one of you." You murmured, staring down at your curse. Your skin. You remember the expression that your mother made when someone compared you to her, saying how much you looked alike. In truth, you and she were never more different. The accent, the skin, the personalities. Perhaps what you were feeling was jealousy. Only your features gave away that you were even part Kyrati, but still, you didn't feel anything like one. Perhaps that was why she'd hated you so much.

The weeks went by in more of a melancholy type of way. Your father had died from a heart attack two years ago, left the estate in your mother's possession. Now it was yours. A crappy, shitty little house out in buttfuck nowhere. Ajay had tried to visit but you wouldn't answer the door. Not for him. Even as he rang the doorbell you laid curled up on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest and trying to forget the fact you were alone. Sometimes, you'd cry.

After a couple days you realized that you had to move. Eat. Do something. It hurt. Really badly. As you stood from the couch, legs weak and not ready to touch the ground at all, you stumbled. The doorbell rang again, but you ignored it. This time, however, the persistence was almost insane; you staggered towards the door, assaulted by a headache possibly of Ajay's making. Another reason to hate your brother. Just what you needed.

As you ripped open the door, your glare clear, Ajay rubbed the back of his neck in his usual repeat pattern. A habit he never could shake even when he was fifteen and you were seven. It seemed like this time he'd brought a friend, a bald, fat man in a black suit. Great. As if looking for an explanation, your eyes flicked over to Ajay.

"It's mom's will."

Those words were more than enough to sway you. To let them both inside and put on the kettle. The lawyer set up his papers as Ajay sat down at the table. Both had rejected tea, but you felt like you needed it. The scents flooded your nose as you sat down at the table, breathing in the unique aroma of the tea. Mom had called it 'Kyrat tea,' since there was nothing better than home according to her. But she hadn't talked about it much other than foods.

They went over quite a few things. Who was getting the house. The funds she'd left. Not much, really, but enough. Objects. None of this mattered to you, but you sat through the grueling process wishing it would just end. "But there is one more addition your mother made to her will before she died," The lawyer said and you were sure it was nothing important, just some stupid shit. Something not worth your time. "It's a last wish."

Your eyes moved up. Probably something for Ajay.

As you suspected, the lawyer handed Ajay the letter instead of you, which he tore into almost hungrily. His eyes scanned the paper and his mouth dropped open in an 'o'. "What?" You snap, feeling less than patient for Ajay to grow some fucking brain cells. Yet, you were anxious. Maybe it did mention you. Maybe, just maybe, mom loved you a little more than you thought.

"She wants me to go to Kyrat and bring her ashes to Lakshmana." Your anxiety turned into rage. Ajay, Ajay, it had always been about fucking Ajay. You wanted to scream at him until your mouth was dry and your voice became hoarse. All you could do was stare mutely at the table, unable to form a single word.

"The respective money will be wired to your accounts within a week. As for the last wish... well, I do hope you find a way to fulfill it." Your eyes snapped to the lawyer, who was sweaty and annoying not to mention a sore sight for your eyes. He seemed to get the message as a moment later you heard the door slam.

"I'm going with you,"

"No, you're not. Mom said-"

"I don't give a fuck what mom said!" You stood from the desk, the chair toppling over giving a slightly more dramatic effect than you intended. Still, Ajay winced.

"She wants me to."

"And I'm coming with you. I'm not about to let the only family I have left go off and never come back!" You screamed, pinpricks of tears threatening to drop from your eyes. You hadn't even realized what you'd said before it came out of your mouth and by then it was too late.

You took a deep breath but it seemed like Ajay was at a loss for words. He didn't look like he had the strength to argue so he merely looked away.

The two of you ended up at the airport. Sitting approximately three seats away from each other, not talking. You cast a sidelong glance at your brother. It still hurt. It still felt empty. A part of you was glad to have him by your side, though. Even if you hated his guts. Hated him for coming from Kyrat, being their mother's favorite, having that beautiful skin that you lacked. You sighed, glancing up at the screen overhead that played some obscure movie.

"Now boarding flight three," The female announcer's voice was annoyingly high-pitched, almost giving you a headache. "Flight three, to Nepal," She continued as if you hadn't just fucking heard. Ajay had explained his contact with some man who insisted they take an outer road into Kyrat due to unforeseen issues on the border. What issues, your brother didn't tell you, but you knew that if they were serious he'd at least give you a heads up. You may dislike him but you trusted him not to get you killed.

The plane ride was long and ailing, one you didn't particularly enjoy especially because you were seated next to your brother. A small glimmer lit up your heart when you thought of the way your mother had described Kyrat and the fact you'd be able to see it now after so many years of longing excited you. Scared you.

Most of the plane ride was fairly uneventful save for some brat trying to stick gum in your hair. As the plane landed, you glanced out the window. Would there be some kind of Kyrati welcome party? Probably not, since you were just outside of Kyrat. You stretched in your chair, more than happy to stand after hours of sitting. Heaving yourself up, you got up, making sure to shove past Ajay on the way. He gave a tired sigh before following you out of the cabin.

Your first thought as you stepped off the cabin was how ecastic you were to be going to Kyrat. It seemed like there was a tourist bus a few minutes away across the flight yard; Ajay stopped beside you, both his and your luggage in his grasp. You took this chance to yank it out of his hands, "I can carry it myself, thanks," You spat, "I'm not fucking lame." Ajay simply shook his head with a sigh. A man dipped out of the plane behind you both and what he said next pissed you off.

"Why do you let her treat you like that, friend?"

You didn't turn around but if he didn't fuck off you'd snap how it was none of his business. "She's family," Your brother responded, with that ever-patient mood of his. "It's been rough for her-"

"I don't need you to speak for me, Ajay!" You shot a glare towards him before dragging your suitcase in a random direction.

"We're going this way," He replied, pointing towards the bus. Your face reddens, shame creeping through that flush across your cheeks. You turn as if you hadn't gone in the wrong direction, strutting towards the bus. The man held suitcases in his hands and a couple of travelers got off the bus to follow him. "You weren't on the plane, not from what I saw."

The man chuckled. "No, no, I am Darpan. A local. I'll be your tour guide," His eyes darted to you, who was out of earshot, "Hopefully she doesn't cause too much trouble."

"I'm Ajay Ghale. And that's my sister, she's also a Ghale..." Your brother glanced towards the back of your head. "No, no, she won't. Don't worry. Only person she causes trouble for is me, but I'm used to it. She shouldn't bother you."

Darpan paused for a moment taking all of this in before he nodded. A bright smile was plastered on his face. "Well, we should get going. Have a long ride ahead of us!"

You stared in disdain at the bus. It looked absolutely disgusting. And was that... was that a dead bird? It reeked of foul odors, ones you couldn't quite place because there were so god damn many of them.

Your eyes trailed down to your own clothes. You were wearing a black shirt that tucked neatly into the hem of your floral patterned skirt; it seemed like a dress to any onlookers, but it was really just a cheap version of one. Sunglasses were on your head and you definitely looked like an American tourist. If anyone looked at you and Ajay, they wouldn't be able to tell you were siblings. He wore clothes that were dirtier and you looked like a normal American teenager. His skin was dark and yours was light. It was these little differences that made you hate your body so much.

As Ajay brushed past you, hauling his luggage onto the truck, you sucked up your hatred of the musty smell of the bus and hopped up with him, ignoring his attempt to help you.

Welcome to Kyrat, you thought bitterly. Surely it couldn't get any worse.


End file.
